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It was disgraceful and jarring to see how the NFL and some broadcasters tried to "move on" from the murder-suicide committed by Jovan Belcher on Saturday.

I know, the Kansas City Chiefs did have a moment of silence for victims of domestic violence before they went on and played the Carolina Panthers, but come on? Did they really need to play the game?

Cancelling it would have provided more than a moment of reflection on this gruesome crime, and the epidemic that it is simply one symptom of.

"Everyday in the US, more than three women are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends," according to domesticviolencestatistics.org. "Domestic violence is the leading cause of injury to women -- more than car accidents, muggings, and rapes combined."

And it is rife within the NFL. "Of the 32 NFL teams, 21 of them have this year had at least one player who's been charged at some point with domestic violence or sexual assault," according to Justin Peters at slate.com.

So it was very disappointing, to say the least, to see the NFL carry on this weekend.

And other than Bob Costas, James Brown, and Boomer Esiason, the sportscasters I saw, or read about, were no better. They'd mention the Belcher story, appear solemn, and then go straight to reporting on whatever game was playing, without giving the viewer any sense of the dimensions of this national scourge.

This was not a rare incident. It was an altogether and sickeningly commonplace one. And that was the point that needed driving home this weekend -- much more important than any of the points on the scoreboard.

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By Wendell Berry

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion—put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Wendell Berry is a poet, farmer, and environmentalist in Kentucky. This poem, first published in 1973, is reprinted by permission of the author and appears in his “New Collected Poems” (Counterpoint).